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As Sam drifted off to sleep, he expected to once more be embraced by the freezing cold and turbulent water. But much to his surprise, he felt a gentle, salty breeze brush against his cheek, accompanied by the overlapping sounds of waves.
"What...," he muttered before opening his eyes, only to find him staring at the bright blue sky. Sam shot his torso up, and right in front of his eyes was a vast ocean with crystal-clear water stretching as far as his eyes could see. The man quickly got to his feet and dusted off the black sand sticking to his clothes and hair - his eyes darted left and right until he saw a silhouette near the water's edge.
It was a tall, slim figure dressed in a traditional-looking blue robe adorned with wave-like patterns. Their face was concealed under a white beaded veil; in their left hand was a vibrant red rose - its petals covered with sand and ashes.
"Hello?" said Sam, prompting the figure to turn toward him.
"You..." a mellow, female voice came from behind the veil. The woman pointed the rose stalk at him before saying, "Edelweiss."
Sam strangely felt a chill running down his spine. Moreover, her voice sounded eerily familiar to Lucy's but gentler. "Do I...know you?" Sam asked.
"No," the woman replied, "But I know what you seek."
The man narrowed his eyes as the mysterious figure slowly circled him. His hand began to move on its own - trying to reach for his nonexistent katana.
"Tell me, young man. Why are you so desperately searching for your past? Has it ever crossed your mind that perhaps it was forgotten for a reason?"
"Those are very odd questions, Miss. Are you implying that you possessed the knowledge of my past?"
"If I do, will it give you the peace you've longed for? Or perhaps the purpose of your existence."
"The purpose of my existence?" Sam huffed at the woman's last statement, "If you are referring to the old prophecy, Miss, then I must apologize. I'm not exactly a firm believer of words written by an anonymous author."
"Yet, I could see it in your eyes – even if it was for a split second that you were convinced that you were the second coming of the Red Ravager, the same wildfire that once dyed the sky crimson and singed every patch of land in the Mortal Plane," the Lady in Blue added before she stopped on the spot where she originally stood.
"Who are you? How come you know so much about me? About the Red Ravager?" Sam returned with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
The lady in blue let out an eerie chuckle – a reaction that bemused Sam further. "Patience is a virtue, lamb. Take one step at a time, and see the world as it is now – or there will be a moment when you will be presented with a choice that will decide the fate of every soul on earth."
Suddenly, a pair of decaying hands sprung between Sam's feet and grabbed his ankles. Crying out in pain, Sam fell on his stomach. "W-What is this?" he growled, thrashing his legs to break free from the rigid hold. Seconds later, similar decomposing hands sprouted from the ground, clutching his limbs. He even tried to conjure up his flame, but the intense pain spreading throughout his body made it difficult for him to even create a spark.
"Remember. One. Step. At a time."
Sam lifted his head and saw the Veiled Lady standing right in front of him. She then placed the rose near his face before walking away without a word.
"Argh!" Sam yelped as more hands popped up and, little by little, pulled him into the solid ground. "Wait, you-!" the man continued to yell even though the woman was nowhere to be seen. He gasped as his body was crushed into the earth; unfortunately, that only caused the gravelly sand to slip into his mouth - clogging his airway.
He could no longer scream. Nor breathe. In fact, he could no longer feel anything.
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Sam woke up panting, his white pajamas drenched in sweat. He felt a tingly sensation on the tips of his fingers and toes that eventually faded away. His heart was pounding vigorously against his chest even when he was already sitting straight on his bed.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
"Hey-yo! You're up?" Rupert shouted on the other side of the steel door.
Sam flung himself toward the entrance and pulled the door wide open. The elder Nightingale, clad in a simple blue denim jacket paired with black khaki pants, is staring at him alarmingly.
"Dude, you alright? You looked pale," mouthed Rupert after noticing the beads of sweat running down his friend's face.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. What's the matter?"
"A youngling came to me crying earlier – said that Cindar is beating his friends in the Training Hall. I tried finding Rowanna, but it seems she hasn't returned yet."
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Give me a sec. I'll go prep myself," he exhaled before shutting back the door. "Goddamnit, Cindar. What the hell are you doing?" Sam murmured while walking toward his closet. He pushed the white wooden door and, as he anticipated, his new uniform: a custom-made, mahogany red duffle jacket with brown corduroy trousers already hanging side-by-side on the metal pole. Although he was looking forward to wearing it, he had to hold it off due to the pungent smell of his sweaty skin.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Perhaps I should take a bath first."
ɹɹ********************************************
[15 minutes later...]
As soon as they reached the third floor, Sam and Rupert stormed out of the elevator and quickly made their way to the east wing. Located across from the Dining Hall, the Training Hall was where the younglings and the full-fledged members worked out daily. Despite its dull name, the Training Hall was divided into six distinct spaces:
The Main Arena was the largest of the six areas where the residents often sparred with each other - either by using the provided wasters or their own fists.
The remaining five rooms, officially known as the Simulation Chambers, were one of the Order's architectural crown jewels - capable of creating realistic terrains, weather, and other environmental elements.
As the duo got closer to the hall, they saw a lone little boy weeping at the double glass door.
With his instinct kicked in, Sam bent down until he was at the same level as the kid's height.
"Hey, it’s alright. Would you mind telling me your name?"
"E...Eva...Evan..." the boy sobbed.
"Evan, is it? What happened? Why are you crying?"
"We...were just...finishing our routine until he...Clive! And Rachel! He hit them! I don't know what to do, so I just...ran!"
Baring his teeth, Rupert went into the Training Hall by himself - much to Sam's dismay.
"Rupe, wait!" Sam called, but he was too late. He shifted his attention to the boy - staring into the latter's terrified eyes, and said, "Just stay here, alright? My friend and I will handle this." Sam gave the kid a pat on the head before chasing after the elder Nightingale.
**ɹɹ******************************************
Revolting.
That was only the word that came up to Sam's mind to describe the situation in the Training Hall. In front of his glistening eyes, a pair of younglings lay motionlessly on the floor - their faces covered with nasty cuts and bruises. He later found Rupert near a blonde-haired boy, quietly checking for his pulse.
"They're barely hanging on," said Rupert with a scowl, "We need to take them to the Infirmary now."
Sam then turned his attention toward the middle of the room, where Cindar stood pompously with a bloodied wooden longsword in his hand.
"Are you mad?" Sam angrily remarked.
"Mad?" Cindar grinned, "I was merely teaching them about manners, especially toward their upperclassmen."
A few moments later, Lucy barged through the front door in her new garments - a black undershirt, a teal blue linen blazer, and raven black trousers. "What in the world-?" the woman paused after her eyes settled on the unconscious younglings. "You bastard!" she snarled, her face gradually turning bright red. As the youngest Nightingale reached for her dirk, Sam swiftly grabbed her arm, telling her, "Calm down. Do not let him get to you."
"But..."
"Focus, Lucy! Your current priority is to take the younglings to the Infirmary," said Sam, glancing over his shoulders," I'll deal with Cindar."
Lucy's eyes widened, clearly trying to protest the man's decision. However, after seeing Sam's solemn expression, she knew the man had already made up his mind seconds ago.
"Fine," despite Lucy's lukewarm answer, Sam released the woman's arm and watched her shuffle to her brother's side.
The siblings quickly left the Training Hall with the younglings, leaving Sam alone with the perpetrator.
"Impressive," Cindar clapped his hands from out of the blue, "I must say, taming the duo must have been a chore. So, what's the secret?"
Sam glared at the cheerful-looking man, who was seemingly unperturbed by his previous actions. Why? he wondered. What did the Faceless Lord see in this sadistic and unruly man?
"Taming? They're not animals, Cindar. Also, provoking me will not do you any good. I'm not as ardent as the siblings," Sam retorted.
Cindar snickered, "You are an exceedingly patient man, Edelweiss - I'll give you that. Or perhaps you're just heartless."
"Enough with the chit-chat," Sam interjected, "Just put the weapon back on the shelf and follow me to the seventh floor. As much as I would love to entertain my temper, the Eight will be the one to decide your fate. But, considering the damages you have done, even Thomas won't be able to get you out of this scot-free."
Cindar smirked, "Unfortunately for the old man, he doesn't have that kind of choice. You see? He made an oath with my late father - to raise me into an official member of the Order, no matter the cost. In other words, unless I deliberately killed someone, I am exempted from any form of punishment."
Shortly afterward, Sam caught a glimpse of Cindar squeezing the wooden sword. "The younglings didn't do anything to you, did they?"
"I must admit it was a bit crude, but they served their purpose well. Baits are still baits, no matter how big or small they are," Cindar stated before tossing the waster away. The man dashed forward, pulling a trench knife from the inside of his black jacket.
Sam dodged the incoming blade but, he knew the vile man would not give up that easily.
Grinning menacingly, Cindar kept swinging the knife at his opponent while taunting the latter, "Come on, Edelweiss! Don't you want to avenge the younglings! So what is with the hesitation- Oof!" Cindar gasped after Sam kicked him directly in the solar plexus, causing him to fall on his back
"Enough with this pointless quarrel!" yelled Sam, "Don't you have a shard of honor in that thick head of yours?"
"You and your self-righteousness," Cindar chuckled, "It's laughable, seeing you miserably cling to it even though it did nothing but hinder your true potential." Taking a deep, long breath, the man got back up to his feet before exhaling a cloud of greenish-yellow gas from his mouth.
Sam grimaced as an irritating, bleach-like odor filled the air, prompting him to cover his own nose and mouth. "Seriously, Cindar? Chlorine gas?" uttered Sam, his voice slightly muffled.
Cindar started to laugh maniacally at his panicking foe, "You can try to hold your breath Edelweiss, but sooner or later, even your own body will betray you."
BAM!
The door burst open; a willowy figure walked into the hall with her fiery, amethyst eyes scouring the room before her piercing gaze landed on the two men.
Cindar's face was already as white as a sheet; his entire body froze just from the mere sight of the unexpected visitor. On the other hand, the woman grunted after noticing Sam's glassy eyes and the colored vapor surrounding him.
"Same shit, different day," she sighed heavily.